


A Nudge In The Right Direction

by TheRussianKat



Series: Charthur Modern AU [3]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Modern AU, Multi, Taima the horse but she's a cat, relationships take work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25773379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRussianKat/pseuds/TheRussianKat
Summary: Arthur deserves good things, but sometimes he needs convincing of this
Relationships: Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston, Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith, Hosea Matthews/Dutch van der Linde
Series: Charthur Modern AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1761667
Comments: 8
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

Trudging into his apartment Charles couldn’t think of anything better than collapsing on the sofa and eating take-out with Arthur. He felt as though he had been thoroughly soaked all day, first getting caught in the rain when he left the house and then spending the majority of the day waist deep in a river, clearing debris from the recent floods with Eagle Flies and when he had finally got a chance to change into something dry he found his rucksack a dripping mess where it had been left outside the rangers station.

‘A hot shower, dry clothes and everything would be fine’ he told himself as he dropped his rucksack with a squelch by the front door. As he shucked off his boots he could hear voices from the kitchen. Shedding his coat and slinging it on one of the hooks he made his way to join them.

The voices it turned out were Arthur and Mary-Beth. Arthur looking like a rabbit caught in headlights whilst Mary-Beth scowled, the moment they spotted Charles in the room both their faces lit up. “Charles!” she exclaimed, seemingly delighted at his appearance in his own apartment “Will you tell this blockhead to listen to me,” she sounded exasperated; this argument had clearly gone on for a while.

“What’s going on?” he asked, mind still trying to catch up.

“Mary-Beth went and sent those stupid drawin’s I did to her publisher,” Arthur declared, slumping into one of the kitchen chairs “and now she thinks I should become some fancy illustrator or somethin’.” Charles watched the other mans’ face carefully, it was hidden under a scowl but he could see the nervousness as Arthur chewed his thumb nail.

“You should,” ignoring Mary-Beths excited squeal, Charles took the seat beside Arthur, sighing when the blonde made no attempt of looking at him. “Why don’t you want to?”

Finally Arthur looked up, huffing as he ran a hand through his hair before meeting Charles gaze. His face softened “I ain’t good enough to be an illustrator. They’re just doodles for my journal, no one’s goin’ to be interested in a book ruined by my scribblin’! It ain’t fair to people like Mary-Beth who spend months writin’ somethin’, they should get a proper artist not some half-bit-“

“Stop. Just stop,” Charles could see Mary-Beth lent against the kitchen counter, looking as exasperated as he felt. Turning his eyes back to Arthur, he placed his hand over his and gently ran his thumb across his knuckles and was quickly rewarded with a quirk of a smile. Slipping his fingers through Arthurs he gave the hand a gentle squeeze “Don’t make a decision right now, sleep on it, take a couple of days and then decide.” Arthur was already shaking his head and trying to pull his hand out of his grasp, but Charles persisted “You still say no in two days, we’ll never bring it up again.”

It took a few moments, long seconds dragging by as Charles watched Arthur mull it over in his head before his shoulders slumped and the frown slipped from his face. “Fine,” he grumbled, giving Charles hand a gentle squeeze before pulling away.

Standing he stretched his arms with an audible ‘pop’, his t-shirt riding up slightly revealing a patch of skin. Still reclined in his own seat Charles took the opportunity when his saw it and placed a well-aimed poke, instantly rewarded with the blonde jumping out of reach with a noise like an angry cat. Tugging his shirt back down he moved so he was stood behind Charles and out of poking reach, placing his hands on the larger mans’ shoulders. “Right, I can already see you two tryin’ to gang up on me so Mary-Beth I’m sure you’ve got better places to be,” he said, not unkindly as he gestured towards the door.

Mary-Beth just gave him a self-satisfied smile “In fact I do,” she said as she gathered her purse and jacket from the table. She gave both men a hug and kiss on the cheek, holding Arthurs hug a little longer and whispering “Do the smart thing, you deserve it,” before pulling away and making her way to the door.

As the door clicked shut Arthur felt two arms wind around his waist before pulling him flush against Charles broad and noticeably _damp_ chest. Arthur began trying to wriggle out of the other mans embrace, cursing when his grip tightened and he went a step further nuzzling into the crook of his neck. Wet hair sticking to Arthurs face as Charles began peppering overly wet kisses to his neck, his breath ghosting over the wet trail as he quietly laughed.

Amusement clear on his face, Arthur finally freed himself, playfully rubbing his hand over his now _wet_ neck. “Why’d you have to get me wet?! I ain’t done nothin’” he groused but there was no heat to his words.

Still grinning Charles stepped closer to Arthur, who was slowly backing away from him, arms raised and ready for another attack. Stepping closer, he watched as Arthur backed into his own drawn out chair, stumbling slightly and dropping his gaze from Charles. Seeing his chance; Charles sprung forward. Catching Arthurs lips in his own before he could protest and manoeuvring them both so Arthur was trapped between him and the counter.

There wasn’t much of a height difference between the two men, barely an inch, but Charles still used it to his advantage, bearing down on Arthur bracketing him with his arms as he deepened the kiss. Pressing closer, he could feel Arthur shiver as their chests met and the dampness began to seep through Arthurs own shirt.

“You’re a bastard Smith,” Arthur growled as he broke the kiss, lips swollen and pink.

“Hmmm, I’m just cold and you seem exceptionally warm right now,” Charles voice purred as he adjusted himself slightly to slot his leg between Arthurs earning a hum of approval from the blonde. Leaning close, Charles kept his eyes locked with Arthur, revelling in the complete control he’d been given. Just as his lips brushed Arthurs the chime of the doorbell stole his attention.

Fully intending to ignore it, Charles leant back in only for it to chime again.

“That might be the delivery guy,” Arthur said softly “Thought you might like somethin’ edible to eat tonight.”

A new warmth spreading through his chest, Charles placed a peck on Arthurs lips “Handsome and thoughtful, hmmm,” rolling his eyes as the bell chimed again, Charles risked one more kiss before heading for the door.

Arthur had been right, it was the delivery guy, laden down with enough Chinese food to feed a small army. By the time he returned to the kitchen he found Arthur looking far more put together than he left him.

Depositing the food on the counter Charles turned back to Arthur ready to continue where he’d left off. Arthur had obviously expected this though and had positioned himself the other side of the table, brandishing a wooden spoon as though that would protect him. “Don’t even think about it, you need to shower ‘fore you start smellin’ like damp,” he ordered, using the spoon to point him towards the bathroom.

“You saying I smell?”

“I’m sayin’ you won’t if you get in the shower,” Arthur retorted, eyes flicking to the floor as they were joined by Taima who had come to see what the commotion her humans had started was about.

The little brown faced cat had fit seamlessly into Charles life. Once they had rescued her from the barn and had the vet check her over she had been brought back to the flat and hadn’t left since, making the most of her new, dry, indoor home. The first few days she had stuck close to Charles, prowling his shadow and perching on his shoulders where possible. Then he had left her with Arthur for a couple of hours whilst he went on a supply run to the pet store and found he had been replaced as her favourite human. She _loved_ Arthur. If she followed Charles like a shadow, she was more like an extension to Arthurs physical being. Constantly draping herself over his shoulders and purring just from being close to him. Charles couldn’t blame her really, if he were a cat he’d purr when he saw Arthur as well.

He was surprised it had taken her this long to join them in the kitchen, normally ready to pester them for a fuss the moment they walked through the door, though he supposed the presence of Mary-Beth may have kept her hidden in the bedroom. She still wasn’t too sure about new people; hissing and scratching at Javier the first time he had tried to pet her getting her the nickname _gatito enojada_. Charles didn’t speak much Spanish, but he was pretty certain it wasn’t a compliment. The only stranger she seemed to like was Dutch; who had appeared on his doorstep at 7am a few days after Taima had been brought home, claiming a need to speak with Arthur but then spending the next two hours focused on the little cat. According to Arthur ‘all cats loved Dutch’.

As she padded into the kitchen she took one look at Charles and made a bee-line for Arthur, skittering out of the way of Charles hand when he reached down to fuss her.

“Aw, don’t want to go to the smelly man do ya’” Arthur cooed as he scooped her in his arms.

Charles watched the two of them, Taima slumped in Arthurs arms rubbing her head happily against his chest. “Oh she’s allowed your attention though,” Charles pouted, crossing his arms and trying to ignore the way his damp clothes brushed against his skin _, Arthur may have had a point about that shower_.

“O’course, she don’t look like she’s been wadin’ through a river,” the blonde explained, looking almost as smug as the cat in his arms. “The sooner you get in that shower, the sooner you’ll get my attention.”

Holding his hands up in surrender Charles turned to head to the bathroom, already stripping off his shirt as he did so. Then as an afterthought turned back to Arthur “I could always use some help in the shower.”

Even as blush rushed up his neck and coloured his cheeks Arthur stayed strong “Naw, I think we both know what’ll happen if I go in there with you,” his word tailed off but his eyes kept flicking to his bare chest.

“Shame,” Charles smirked, undoing the top button of his jeans whilst keeping his eyes on Arthur. As he saw Arthurs resolve begin to crumble though he gave a wink and disappeared in the bathroom locking the door behind him.

More flustered than he would care to admit, Arthur turned back to the food muttering about ‘ _gorgeous bastards_ ’ keeping Taima cradled against him.

* * *

After a relatively quick shower Charles rubbed his hair with a towel, trying to get rid of most of the moisture. Once he was happy it wouldn’t be dripping down his shoulders he grabbed his fresh clothes but hesitated before putting them on _. ‘It wouldn’t hurt to continue what they had started’_ he thought and there were two sure fire ways for Charles to seduce Arthur; and one of them was just being naked, a method he had exploited multiple times in the past. The anticipation spreading warmth down his body he quickly dried himself off properly.

As he opened the bathroom door though the smell of the food hit him and he suddenly realised just how hungry he was, his stomach rumbling in complaint. For a second he just stood there, hand still on the door and bare ass naked as he warred with himself. _Food or sex_? Sighing as his stomach rumbled once more, he turned back into the bathroom and retrieved his clothes.

* * *

In hindsight he could have probably stood to order more food Arthur thought as he deposited his empty box on the table, smiling fondly as Charles eagerly scraped the last few noodles out of his own container. He was a warm kind of content, leaning back into the Charles, who was blessedly dry and solid.

He was vaguely aware of the TV playing in the background but was more than happy just resting on Charles. A comforting heaviness washing over him, he didn’t really notice his eyes closing. It wasn’t until he felt someone nudging him awake surprised to see the TV had been turned off and the coffee table cleared. Looking up, wincing as his neck cracked, he found Charles grinning down at him. “Let’s get you to bed,” the larger mans’ voice washed over Arthur, tempting him to close his eyes again and settle back into sleep. He explained his intention of remaining on the sofa but even to his own ears it was a half asleep mumbled mess.

He felt more than heard Charles laugh, the gentle shake of his chest dislodging Arthur enough to convince him to reopen his eyes. Glaring at Charles he tried again “Stay here, s’warm,” to make his point he tried to burrow closer into Charles side.

* * *

Flicking off the lights Charles padded his way over to bed, stretching out his back before slipping under the sheets. Arthur quickly shuffled closer, close enough that they were sharing breath. Charles wound his arm around Arthurs waist, pulling him close as he relaxed into the pillows, Arthur now cushioned against his chest.

They lay in comfortable silence, Charles slowly fading into sleep whilst Arthur drew circles on his chest with his fingers. The circles turned to tapping and the soft steadiness seeped away, nervous energy beginning to taint the air. Eyes still closed, Charles tightened his grip on the blonde “I can hear you thinking,” his voice sounding as heavy as his body felt.

Arthur didn’t say anything but Charles could feel the tension ripple through him; he didn’t try and pull away though, if anything he tried to get closer, gripping lightly at Charles with the no longer tapping hand. Normally, Charles would let the other man come to him with whatever was on his mind; let him figure out his own thoughts before asking him to share. Sometimes it seemed as though Arthur was waiting to be asked, waiting for someone to show an interest before divulging whatever was bothering him.

Keeping his arm around the smaller man, Charles shifted so rather than Arthur resting on top of him they were face to face once more. In the dark of the room he could just about make out Arthurs features. “What’s going on in that head?”

He half expected Arthur to remain quiet; clam up now that he had his attention. So he waited, brushing his fingers up and down the other mans’ arm. He could see Arthurs face in the shadows as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, chewing his lip as he watched Charles fingers playing up his arm.

“You really think I’m good ‘nough?” if Charles hadn’t been paying such close attention he would have missed Arthurs whisper. As quiet as the words were they still hit Charles like a ton of bricks.

“Of course,” Charles responded, barely thinking about the ludicrous question.

Arthur wasn’t convinced though, chewing on his lip again as he mulled over Charles answer “You ain’t just sayin’ that ‘cause we’re,” he vaguely gestured at the closeness between them with his hand, before mumbling “You know…”

Realising this was a topic that definitely wouldn’t be getting put to rest anytime soon Charles pulled himself up and leant over to turn on the bedside light. Rubbing the weariness from his face he turned back to Arthur who had shuffled so he was sat up, leaning against the head board. He looked miserable; staring down at his hands as they fiddled with the sheets, chewing his bottom lip, blush slowly creeping up his neck.

“Stop that,” Charles quietly chastised, placing his hand on the other mans bare shoulder. Arthur looked up at him, eyes wide like a child caught with their hands in the cookie jar. “Stop beating yourself up over this.”

Arthur kept his eyes on him now, bottom lip finally free from his teeth but quaking slightly as he mulled over his words “It’s just, I ain’t never been good at anything that weren’t fightin, and if you’re just sayin’ nice things to keep me around I don’t-“

He was cut off. Charles rarely lost his temper. There were few things that could really get to him, but Arthurs words were like sandpaper on a raw nerve. Snapping his hand away from Arthurs shoulder he clambered from under the sheets, “You really think I only told you that to keep you in my _bed_? You think I _only_ care because we’ve slept together? You think that _little_ of me?” his voice wasn’t loud but the gravel of the words shook through the room. His back to Arthur, shoulders hunched with tension, each word was as clear as day.

Reaching out, Arthur tried to run his own hand over Charles arm but that too was snatched away by the larger man. “Charles, that ain’t what I m-“

Warm anger flowing through him Charles abandoned the bed entirely, pacing on the carpet, still keeping from looking at the other man “Oh what did you mean then? I’m not telling you these things because I want a warm body in my bed, I’m telling you because they’re true and you deserve a better life than the bullshit you’ve had so far. Maybe I’m an idiot for giving a damn about you in the first place if you think this is just about sex. But you mean something to me Arthur Morgan and it’s about damn time that you meant something to you as well.”

He stopped pacing, deflating as it seemed all the anger trickled away. Finally trying to catch Arthurs eye again, where he had tucked himself as close to the bedframe as possible. The blonde mans eyes were closed, face tipped upwards. For a man of few words Charles was still surprised to suddenly find himself speechless. He had never seen the other man so despondent.

There were always battles better left alone, especially ones like these.

“I’m going to make us some tea,” Charles started, words sounding clipped to his own ears “Then we’ll talk about this properly okay?” and with that he left Arthur to his thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Arthur talk and there's some back story!

Charles pottered around the kitchen longer than strictly necessary, trying to get his thoughts in order before venturing back to the bedroom. Taima had poked her head in the kitchen looking thoroughly put out at the late night disturbance when he first came through but had promptly disappeared, probably to catch up on her beauty sleep.

Grabbing his phone from the counter Charles scrolled through the contacts, _maybe someone else would have the answer_ he thought, hovering his thumb over ‘Hosea’ for a moment, he tapped it before he could think himself out of it. As it rang he felt a knot tie deep in his stomach, it was bizarre how different interactions became when you started dating the other persons son.

Phone still held to his ear he glanced at the oven-clock; 22:42, quite late but hopefully not so late that Hosea and Dutch had already retired for the evening. Finally with a click the ringing stopped.

“Hello?”

* * *

Since this thing between them had started, Arthur had not once felt uncomfortable in Charles flat, or bed for that matter. But right at that moment, watching Charles leave the room, he was struggling to think of a place he wouldn’t rather be.

He could see his clothes in a neat pile on the dresser, a little voice niggling in the back of his mind that if he went now he could avoid the whole situation he had dug himself into. Wallowing in his own thoughts he didn’t look up when the door creaked open again. Not wanting to see Charles pitying look. He did look up when he felt a weight leap onto the bed though and came eye to eye with Taima, her little paws resting on his stomach as she gave him a sniff, bumping her face against his nose with a soft purr before folding her legs and settling down.

“You ain’t lettin’ me go then?” he spoke softly to the little cat, scratching behind her ears “Don’t think Charles s’gonna be as keen to keep me ‘round, you might need to get used to just bein’ you an’ him for a while.”

They stayed curled together, Arthur not having the heart to disturb her to make his own escape. He had always liked cats, preferred dogs, but had a soft spot for cats. For the most part cats seemed to like him too, except Dutch’s cat; The Count. The Count was the epitome of decadence, with his luxurious white coat and crystalline blue eyes but, as Hosea often said, he was a right bastard. If you weren’t Dutch you were free-game to the fluffy menace. The only one who seemed to control him was Silver Dollar, a mix of Labrador and Great Dane the gargantuan brute of a dog was a real softie and big enough that even The Count had second thoughts about using him for claw sharpening.

He couldn’t help but think he would miss Taima, the little cat having a carved out a special spot in his heart; not nearly as much as he would miss Charles though. He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of his phone buzzing. Carefully reaching to grab it without disturbing Taima, it was a text:

**Dutch - 22:47:** _Are you free tomorrow? Need some help with the new shelves in the kitchen_

**Arthur – 22:48:** _I’m free. Can come over in the morning?_

**Dutch – 22:48:** _I’ll pick you up at 8. Good night._

Staring at his phone screen, Arthur could feel an old familiar feeling creeping through him; _Dutch was up to something_. Sighing he began texting that he would need picking up from Charles rather than his own apartment when Charles re-entered the room, carrying two mugs. Putting down the phone, text forgotten, Arthur watched the other man place his own mug on the side table before handing Arthur his.

“Thanks,” Arthur mumbled, taking a sip.

“Watch out it’s hot,” Charles warned as Arthur swore, burning his tongue. Grimacing slightly Arthur placed the mug on his own side table.

When he looked back at Charles he felt the knots in his stomach loosen slightly, the soft edges of the other mans face pulled into a fond smirk but his eyes still seemed heavy. Part of him hoped Charles would start talking first but instead he was doing the infuriatingly kind thing of letting Arthur collect his own thoughts first.

But that was Charles all over; kind to a fault. His brief outburst before disappearing to make tea was the angriest Arthur had ever seen him. When he had been with Mary if felt like they were fighting every time they saw each other; not Charles though. The larger man never let anything escalate into an argument. He stayed calm, made sure Arthur had time to make his case before making his own. Arthur had never felt so important.

“I din’t mean to make it sound like this was just,” Arthur began, gesturing between them as his face coloured, tripping over the next word before giving up and finishing with “you know…” he trailed off.

“Sex?” Charles offered; smiling at the other mans embarrassment, still keeping very much to his side of the bed.

“Yeah, yeah that,” Arthur agreed, still fidgeting “It ain’t just that to me, I swear, I just sometimes get in my own head ‘bout things and my mouth starts workin’ on its own,” he sighed “You’re more than a warm body to me, much more. I don’t want you thinkin’ otherwise just cos my mouth outran my brain.”

It was Charles turn to sigh, still sat atop the bed sheets but now leaning against the headboard “I know,” Charles got straight to the point “I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain. This,” he reached for Arthurs hand where it was resting on Taimas back, earning an annoyed mrrrp from the cat “matters so much more than I can explain. It just kills me that you can’t see how important you are sometimes.”

Arthur stayed quiet. Focusing on where his and Charles hands were joined, enjoying the warmth and gentle pressure of the fingers between his. He could feel Taima squirming on his lap, trying to get comfortable, paddling the covers with her claws. It was _nice_ , as simple as it was, it was really _nice_. The knots in his stomach were tightening up again. He didn’t want to lose this. “Have I ruined this?” his voice choked.

The pressure on his hand vanished. He bit his lip, hard enough to bleed. _He was a goddamn idiot_. _He had ruined everyth-_

“You’re a fool, but a fool I would miss,” Arthur looked up, Charles had leant closer, no longer perched as close to the edge as possible.

Swallowing, Arthur shuffled a little closer, the final straw for Taima who made a huff before taking leave of the two men, tail held high as she went. “We’re still okay?”

Eyes trailing Taima as she made her exit before flicking back to Arthur, Charles smiled this time his eyes brightening as well “We’re okay, but don’t think for a second I’m going to let you beat yourself up about these things anymore. I need to know that you know I’m serious about all of this,” Arthur opened his mouth to answer but Charles simply cupped his face with his hand and ran his thumb over his lip, effectively silencing him “and I am serious about your talent. You have a gift Arthur.”

Then, without any hesitation, he leant forward and placed a single kiss, letting is linger as he felt Arthur press closer.

Breaking the kiss, Arthur began fiddling with the material of Charles sleeve, still keeping within a breath of the other man “You know, it ain’t that late yet. Not even midnight…”

“Hmm, it is still quite early,” Charles agreed, running his hands over Arthurs bare shoulders before threading his fingers through the other mans hair “and I have heard some great things about make-up sex.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Charles took Arthurs mouth in his again, no longer chaste and warm but devouring and all-consuming as he pushed Arthur flat against the mattress, straddling him across his thighs in one smooth motion. He quickly pinned Arthurs hands to the mattress, the smaller man responding by trying to raise his hips, the thick outline of his cock obvious as it brushed against Charles own tented boxers.

The kisses were messy and leaving them breathless, but neither man felt overly inclined to stop, lung capacity be damned. They only broke apart when Arthur began tugging at Charles shirt, growling “You need to be a lot more naked Mr Smith.”

Happy to oblige Charles pulled his shirt over his head, flinging it to the floor. As he began trailing his kisses down Arthurs chest a quiet meow caused both men to hesitate. _Taima_. Glancing over his shoulder, but seeing no cat, Charles turned back to the task at hand.

Arthur took advantage of his momentary lapse of focus to flip their positions, a smug grin on his face as he pushed Charles into the mattress. “I ain’t lettin’ you go anywhere,” he grinned. Rolling his hips as he caught Charles lips, happily catching the other mans moans as they moved together.

“Aw shit,” Arthur growled, hips stopping their motion suddenly as his entire body tensed.

Confused, Charles stopped as well, lying against the blankets, eyes widening as he saw Arthurs grimace.

“What’s wrong?”

“Taima,” he ground out, arms beginning to shake with tension as he held himself still.

It took a while for Charles brain to catch up with his ears, the blood flow still focused on other areas, but then he saw a little furry face over Arthurs shoulder. Taima obviously hadn’t taken well to being ignored. He could see her small round paw clinging to the other mans shoulder, claws digging in and beads of blood beginning to emerge under them. No wonder Arthur stopped moving.

As smoothly and efficiently as he could, Charles wriggled out from under Arthur, careful not to jostle him too much. “Stay still,” Charles warned softly as he managed to get to his feet.

“Gee, hadn’t thought of that,” Arthur snarked, hissing as the feline beginning paddling the soft flesh of his back “Just get her off me, will ya?”

Scooping Taima into his arms, Charles couldn’t help but laugh, especially as she flailed and managed to get a claw caught on Arthurs boxers in the process; tugging them down and exposing the swell of his rear. Holding the cat tight to his chest, he placed a placating hand on the blondes shoulder “You’re safe now, the beast has been tamed.”

Groaning dramatically Arthur finally relaxed and rolled onto his back. The moment he made contact with the bed sheets though he shot up again, wincing.

Charles stepped forward, brow furrowed, giving a low whistle when he saw Arthurs back. Taima had done a real number on him. The skin covered in scratches, a couple steadily dribbling down his back where Taima had clung on.

“I’ll go get some wipes and bandaids,” he offered, placing a soft kiss atop Arthurs hair. Taima was mewing pathetically in his arms; realising escape was not an option “and lock this terror in the kitchen.”

“Aw she don’t mean nothin’ by it, did ya sweet thing?” Arthur cooed, using his finger to boink her on the nose “Just wanted to play.”

When Charles left the room this time he left a kiss on Arthurs forehead.

Sat on the edge of the bed, Arthur stretched out the muscles in his back, wincing as it pulled at the scratches. Charles was quick to return though, a pack of anti-bacterial wipes and bandaids in his hands, Taima nowhere to be seen.

They didn’t speak whilst Charles tended to his back, dabbing at the cuts with the wipes his other hand ghosting across his shoulders in silent comfort. None of the cuts were too deep but it was obvious where Taima had really dug them in to keep her balance. Carefully placing the last bandaid Charles softly kissed the other mans shoulder blade, muttering something about putting the first aid supplies back in the bathroom before disappearing out of the room again.

The energy that had thrummed through him barely fifteen minutes earlier seemed to have dissipated and Arthur found himself almost achingly tired. As if in confirmation a yawn wracked through him.

It seemed Charles was in a similar state when he returned, all the adrenaline drained and just ready to slip back under the sheets. So that’s exactly what they did. Exchanging a few quiet, warm words as they both settled back into bed. Charles flicked off the bedside light and for a moment they both stayed completely still, on opposite sides of the bed. Then Charles reached for Arthur and tugged him close, slotting their bodies together in welcoming familiarity.

* * *

It was still dark when Arthur found himself waking with a jolt, he shot up, Charles rolling over mumbling into the pillow beside him, the disturbance not enough to drag him out of bed. Slipping out of bed, Arthur quickly knelt and grabbed blindly for the baseball bat he knew Charles kept beneath the bed.

Grabbing for the bat with one hand and shaking Charles, none too gently, with the other, his fingers finally closed around what felt like a baseball bat. It was not a baseball bat. It was a tomahawk. He stared at the tomahawk in confusion, momentarily distracted from the shuffling he could still hear in the kitchen. _Why the hell did Charles own a tomahawk?_

Recovering, he looked back at Charles who was gazing back with bleary eyes. ‘Someone is in the kitchen’ he mouthed silently, pleased when he saw the realisation sink into the other man. Charles quietly rolled off the bed, quickly grabbing the baseball bat and they made their way towards the bedroom door.

For two such large men, both breaking six foot, they could be remarkably quiet when necessary. They snuck down the hallway into the lounge, the light from the kitchen visible through the frosted glass. 

Bursting into the kitchen they both froze, baseball bat and tomahawk raised respectively. They were met by two very unconcerned pairs of eyes, Taima not even bothering to lift her head from Dutch’s lap. He was sat at the table, newspaper open and a steaming mug of black coffee close to hand, his cane leant carefully against his chair.

"Oh good, you're awake! I was worried I came too early," Dutch sounded far too loud and far too enthusiastic for the earliness of the hour "I thought it best I let myself in and stay out here."

“You gave him a key?” Arthur asked Charles. It seemed the other man was in no state to answer though, his brain having caught up with the fact there was no threat and it was still far too early for him to be functioning. He was leaning against the counter, his tatty, thread bare sweat pants low on his hips, baseball bat dangly dangerously from the tips of his fingers. He gave a non-committal grunt accompanied by a slight shake of his head.

“Okay, you need to go back to bed I think,” Arthur said, mainly to himself as the other two men were paying him little heed. Taking the bat before he had a chance to drop it and laying it on the table beside the tomahawk earning a scoff from Dutch who went straight back to fussing Taima, he then took hold of Charles hand and began to lead him back to the bedroom. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes, just let me get dressed ‘kay?”

“Of course, no hurry son!” Dutch called from the kitchen.

Leading Charles to the bed, Arthur managed to get him back under the covers with minimal fuss, other than some grabby hands and sloppy kisses as Charles tried to convince him back under the covers as well. It seemed the lure of the still warm blankets was overpowering his need to reach after Arthur who was decidedly not in the warm cocoon he was making himself.

Arthur quickly got dressed, pulling on his jeans and t-shirt where they were folded on top of the dresser. As an afterthought he also grabbed the soft red plaid shirt Charles had left on the back of the door, slipping it on over the t-shirt but leaving it unbuttoned.

Going into the bathroom, Arthur caught sight of himself in the mirror, a dark mark obvious just peeking out above his collar. Tugging the flannel shirt up to hide the offending mark, he felt the warmth from his cheeks flutter through the rest of his body, settling over his heart. _Life was good._

Creeping out of the bathroom, he tried to stay quiet as he walked through the bedroom, assuming Charles had already drifted back off to sleep. Reaching the door he looked back to the bed; Charles had already cocooned himself in the blankets, only his nose visible where it poked out under his mess of hair. He’d be grumpy when he woke up properly, an empty bed and forgetting to tie his hair was not the way Charles Smith liked to start his day.

Unable to resist, Arthur padded over to him, softly pushing the hair out of his face to reveal his slack features and getting a grumpy snuffle in return for the disturbance. Breathing out a laugh, he dropped a kiss on his brow, rolling his eyes as Charles scrunched his nose. “I’ll see you tonight,” he said, his voice a rough whisper, and with that he left.

* * *

The house Dutch and Hosea had bought when they first moved to Blackwater was a far cry from what Arthur saw as Dutch pulled into their driveway. What had been a rickety old shell of a building, with damp in the walls, rats in the basement and a very territorial badger in the garden had been transformed. It hadn’t happened over night of course, it had taken nearly two years of hard-graft from all of them to turn it into the almost modest homestead that stood there today.

It stood just outside Blackwater, on its own hill looking over Flat Iron Lake. The panelled walls had been repainted a mossy green, the magnolia window shutters neatly framing the new window boxes Hosea had nurtured to be overflowing with fresh herbs. Their porch was neat but mostly bare, with a cushioned bench beside the door and a lone flower pot. Growing up, it was something Arthur had never envisioned any of the gang living in, but now, it felt as though they had never lived anywhere else.

The inside had been completely gutted when they had purchased it, the only salvageable features being the hardwood floors and the one fireplace that hadn’t been overtaken by wasps. So they had designed everything from the wallpaper to the fitted white goods. The state of the art kitchen, with every mod-con Dutch could think of and Hosea refused to use, sprawled into their ‘den’. A worn and comfortable leather sofa in the centre and an old writing desk Dutch had acquired fit snuggly in the window, overlooking the front garden and fields of West Elizabeth.

Through necessity the master bedroom and accompanying ensuite were also on the ground floor; something Dutch had vehemently protested against. The man had taken much better to straight-living then he had to living with his cane. Hosea called it stubborn but Arthur knew it was more than that. For over twenty years Dutch had been at the top of his game, his possibilities and ambitiousness were limitless. Then, a lucky shot from a dumb kid, who didn’t even know who he was, had practically crippled him. Two weeks in hospital and an initial prognosis of losing his leg entirely had shaken him completely. That damage ran deep, far deeper than the flesh and bone that had been mangled.

They laid low for months, hiding in some backwater town where everyone was related, including some of the livestock. As was usual between jobs the gang scattered, never further than a state away but separate. It was only Arthur, John and a heavily pregnant Abigail who stuck close. Charles would visit every few weeks, bringing supplies and occasionally dragging Arthur out with him. The only other visitor being Micah, who lingered like a bad smell even when Hosea forcibly ejected him from the house.

It was close to four months of recuperation for Dutch. Weeks stuck in bed turning into even more weeks of being bound to wheelchair. It was like he became half a man, the passion and fire that had driven him before had been suffocated. No more long winded speeches and explanations on how to set the world right, he enclosed on himself. Burying himself in books and physical therapy. There was a point where Arthur thought he had lost the man he had called a father but then something almost miraculous happened.

Jack was born.

It had been just Abigail and Dutch home at the time her waters broke; John, Arthur and Hosea were the other side of the state when they got the call. It was a mad rush back, Hosea paying little heed to other motorists as they sped home. But it hadn’t mattered how fast they drove, it seemed little Jack Marston was determined to come into the world as fast as possible.

As Dutch told it, Abigail had barely made it into the ambulance and suddenly Jack was born, red faced and screaming before being placed in his mothers’ arms. Once the others made it to the hospital, Jack was wrapped in a blanket, his face still smushed and soft, being cradled in Dutch’s arms whilst Abigail rested. But looking at little Jack for however many minutes or hours he was left alone with him snapped something in Dutch. It was time to settle down. No more running, no more ‘scores’ and no more needless danger. There was just far too much to lose.

Of course he spoke with Hosea before announcing it to the gang, and the older man listened and once he was done listening he held Dutch as close as he could for as long as he could and made sure he knew exactly how much he loved him.

They had told Arthur and John first, both men confused but ultimately agreeing with the decision, ready to have a life. Two weeks later they made a formal announcement to the gang and most took the news as Dutch had intended it. They had succeeded, they had everything they needed. The last score was enough to set them all up news lives five times over and the money they had tucked away exceeded that.

Some members were less sure, Bill went very still and very quiet whilst Javier just left, spending the remainder of the evening working through his almost full pack of cigarettes. But Dutch spoke with both of them, using his words to help them build new lives for themselves in their heads before they had to go out and do it for real.

Micah, predictably, took it the worst. Normally he would have gone along with whatever Dutch had said, then try and weedle his way into the other mans’ ear and steer the plan the way he wanted, this time though he made his displeasure known. To an outsider he would have sounded like a mad man. Ranting viciously as he spat words at them all, about how they’d gone soft, running away with their tails between their legs. It had been Karen to shut him up, with a well practised right hook sending him stumbling to the ground. He had been quick to jump back up, hissing threats at the blonde, but Charles and Arthur were soon dragging him away. Only a few of them saw him after that, mainly from a distance, and none of them could honestly say they missed him.

As crooked as they had been they had managed to retain their anonymity for the most part during their escapades so turning their lives around wasn’t quite the gargantuan task they had expected. A few changes had to be made; with help from Trelawny, Bill legally became Bill Williamson leaving Marion behind him. Javier found himself with impeccably official documents declaring him a citizen of the United States.

During the first year they mainly stayed close together, throughout the Heartlands and West Elizabeth. Tilly was the first to stray farther away, meeting a lawyer in St Denis in a whirlwind romance and moving there permanently almost a year after the Van Der Linde Gang officially disbanded. Reverend Swanson and Strauss were the next to leave, with little fanfare, heading into the distance to start new lives. They still got the occasional postcard from Swanson but Strauss had disappeared completely. 

Most the others had remained close, they were family after all.

* * *

Hosea was waiting for them when they walked into the kitchen, sat just outside the doors leading onto the deck with a book and coffee in hand. Silver Dollar was lying by his feet, head on his paws, tail beginning to wag when he spotted Dutch and Arthur. The Count, thankfully, was nowhere to be seen. “I did tell him not to go across so early,” the white haired man spoke, not looking up from his book.

Scoffing, Dutch took his place beside Hosea, resting his cane against the bench. “I was excited to see my boy, even you can’t fault me for that.”

“I can when it’s before sunrise,” Hosea retorted but happily accepted a peck on the cheek from Dutch. Finally tearing his eyes away from the book and snapping it closed, he looked up at Arthur, “Well judging by the mark on your neck I can tell the argument didn’t last too long.”

Flushing with colour Arthur tugged the shirt back to cover the bruise, much to the other men’s amusement. As he adjusted himself though a thought struck him, “How’d you know we got in a fight?”

Snorting as he stole Hoseas coffee cup, Dutch shook his head “You’ve given yourself away old girl,” this time earning a glare from the other man.

Putting the book down on the table he gestured for Arthur to take a seat in the armchair beside them. He felt like he was a teenager again, being chewed out by Hosea for getting into fights with people twice his size. “Charles called me last night, sounded at his wits end with you. Something about a career opportunity? Illustrating I think he said.”

“I told Charles I’ll think about it and I will, but I need everyone to stop interferin’ okay?” he levelled his gaze at Hosea who was leant back against Dutch, an almost serene smile on his face.

“You will see no interference from us son,” Dutch assured him, though the Cheshire grin on his face did not fill Arthur with confidence.

“Though, if that wasn’t what got you two into an argument, what was it?”

Slumping into his chair, Arthur closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose “Do we really gotta talk about this?” he grumbled, opening his eyes when he felt something against his leg. It was Silver Dollar, leaving his station by Hoseas side to rest instead against Arthur, plonking his boulder weight head on his lap.

“Can you believe the youth today dear?” Dutch started, dramatically clutching at his heart “We raise him, potty train him, give him the food out of our mouths and now he decides he doesn’t need us.”

“Oh leave it out Dutch, ain’t neither of you ever potty trained me, hell you didn’t even meet me til I was twelve or somethin’” Arthur argued, unable to keep from grinning at the other mans antics “Twenty damn years and sometimes I think I’m the only one who grew up.”

“That is almost a certainty,” Hosea added, indulging their childish quarrel “But you still haven’t told us what the argument was actually about. Charles sounded rather panicked when he called so I’m sure you can forgive an old man for worrying? Can’t you son?” If Arthur hadn’t known Hosea as the conniving, miscreant who could con anyone out of anything he may have fallen for the ‘poor old wretch’ routine. As it was though, all it took was a glimpse of his downturned lips and the guilt began to wash over him.

“Damnit, fine,” Arthur relented “I said somethin’ stupid, didn’t even mean what I said but it opened a whole can’a’worms. I didn’t think he’d drag you into it,” the implied apology took the two older men by surprise though neither voiced it, instead watching Arthur with care, letting him rattle about in his own head to explain first. “We talked it out, we both errr we both want to keep eachother ya know?”

For a moment none of them said anything, Arthur remained sat with flushed cheeks whilst Hosea and Dutch watched him fondly. It was Hosea to break the quiet “He’s a good man Arthur, you could do much worse,” Arthur was sure he heard Dutch mutter something about Mary but didn’t question it “Now, can’t waste the day away chatting. Who’s up for some fishing?”

“I thought I was here to put up shelves?”

“Oh the shelves can wait; we barely use the cupboard space we have as it is. I still have your old rod in the shed I think-“ Hosea spoke quickly as he extricated himself from Dutch’s arms, not giving the other two men a chance to protest. "If we leave soon the fish may still be biting!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...one more chapter to go...with hopefully a much shorter wait!   
> Feedback is SO appreciated! So please feel free to drop me a comment!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles has brunch and pancakes are decidedly not made

When Charles had first rented his apartment he had loved the skylight over his bed, getting to look at the stars as he fell asleep without the inconvenience of being rained or snowed on. Now though, as the morning sun shone directly on his face, he regretted not getting the basement apartment.

Cautiously he reached on arm out of his blankets, resisting the urge to pull it back when it hit the cold air. He patted the bed beside him, swishing his arm back and forth searching. _No Arthur_. This was not how he liked to start his morning. Reluctantly he opened his eyes, the sight of the empty side of the bed confirming he was alone beneath the blankets.

Grumbling to himself he tugged his arm back under the covers, glancing at the clock on his nightstand. It was almost 10am; their late night chat must of knackered him out more than he thought. He could see Taima curled near his feet, tucked up in a circle. It was tempting to just stay in the warmth of the bed, wait for Arthur to return and pull him under the covers where he belonged, but the mundanities of life were calling him.

Throwing off the blankets in one swift motion Charles got his feet, stretching out the kinks in his back as he yawned. Making his way to the bathroom he caught himself in the mirror, his hair was everywhere, _forgot to tie it before they went to sleep_ his mind supplied. This was _not_ a good morning.

Waiting for the shower to warm up he rifled through the medicine cabinet, relieved when he found the coconut oil shampoo Tilly had sent him. He didn’t dawdle in the shower, now that he was up and about he was itching to start the day.

Once showered and dressed Charles made his way into the outside world. It was almost noon by the time he made it to The Stew Pot Café and as he approached he could see John already sat at one of the tables chatting with Pearson.

The Stew Pot had been something of a smash-hit in Blackwater. When they had all started settling down across West Elizabeth, Pearson and Ms Grimshaw did what they did best and worked together. A small fledgling coffee shop turned into the best Café in Blackwater, especially after its main competitors got surprise visits from the Health Inspectors and promptly closed their doors after scathing reports.

It was a quaint café, with brushed wood tables, an open fire and a service hatch into the kitchen which allowed the patrons to see Pearson preparing orders for the day. Ms Grimshaw ran the front, organising her small team of wait-staff like a military operation. Everything from the red chequered gingham curtains to the fake, but expensive, flowers on the tables gave it warmth that people kept coming back for. Their 24 hour alcohol license helped as well.

The bell above the door jingled as Charles entered the café; it was mostly empty with John having taken the table in window and two old ladies huddled together on the sofa by the fireplace cradling their cups of tea.

“Mister Smith!” Pearson greeted, far too loud as always “Take a seat my friend,” he ushered Charles into the seat opposite John who looked distinctly relieved to have company. “What can I get you fellers? Actually, no, don’t tell me,” he cut himself off, laughing at himself as he took out an order pad and began scribbling the two men just staring at his antics “Two Pearson specials coming right up, hope you’re both hungry.” He was still laughing to himself as he walked away.

Taking a breath Charles relaxed into the seat, shaking his head as he saw Pearson strut into the kitchen, laughter still audible. “What on earth is a Pearson special?” he asked John in lieu of greeting.

Draining his coffee John grinned, snorting with laughter as he put the cup down “No idea, can’t be worse than those burgers he used to feed us.”

Meeting with John had become a weekly occurrence about three years earlier. When they had all first started their new lives Charles hadn’t really thought of a place to go or something to do, too use to his day by day life style to have planned for such a scenario. Sure he had savings and a place to live but not much else. So at the start he had stuck with John.

Just before Jacks first birthday, Abigail had packed up and left with the boy, leaving John in the ‘shithole’ house he had bought them. As much as John played martyr and Charles gave the man a shoulder to lean on, it had been predominantly Johns own fault. When he had bought the plot of land with the run-down building he had waxed poetically about turning it into a proper home, building a barn and paddocks and trying their hand at ranching or at least something akin to it. But it had only been words, since moving in John had done nothing and provided little for his family other than the leaky roof over their heads.

The culture shock and sheer devastation that came with them walking out on him seemed to be the wakeup call John had needed though. He stopped talking about the great life they were going to have and actually started working on it. He started working at ‘Pronghorn Ranch’ in Big Valley, learning the ropes of ranching and as Mr Geddes kept telling him ‘gettin’ his feet under the right tables’.

In the little free time he had he worked on the house with Charles. It took the best part of a year, transforming what was little more than a shack into a liveable home. It was hard but rewarding work and the two men enjoyed it for the most part, finding purpose in the labour. Whilst John kept working at Pronghorn, Charles built a coop and work shed with a little help from Arthur and Uncle – mainly Arthur.

After a few phone calls and a lot of grovelling Abigail came back with Jack toddling behind, now two years old and thrilled by the idea of living with sheep and chickens. Their first year ranching went about as well as anyone expected. Foxes got into the chickens, sheep escaped and John got stuck on the roof…twice.

On Abigails return Charles found himself spending less time at Beechers Hope but he and John kept their weekly catch up or as Abigail called it their ‘Gruff Ladies Brunch’. They had stopped arguing against the name after she walked in on them complaining about maintaining long hair.

“I had an idea,” John declared, apparently incredibly pleased with himself “We could do pony-treks.”

“Pony-treks?” Charles frowned, unsure what pony-treks had to do with anything.

“Yeah, start at Beechers Hope and go through Tall Trees to Owanjila or Strawberry. I been wantin’ to get a coupl’a horses for the ranch anyway and you’ve been tryin’ to figure out how to make money for the conservation work. This could work for both of us right?”

Nodding, Charles chewed his lip. It was a good idea, and not too difficult to implement. “I’d have to talk to Monroe, not to mention we’d have to find someone to lead the treks-“

“Arthur could do it!” John exclaimed, grinning and crossing his arms as though it was an inarguably fantastic idea. To be fair it was not a bad idea; Arthur liked horses and for the most part liked people as well. John continued to ramble “He’s been runnin’ around after all of us and helpin’ us for years. This could be his thing! I’d even let him choose the horses.”

Snorting Charles took a sip of his tea, mulling over his thoughts “You let Arthur choose the horses you’ll end up getting every horse in the state. Plus Arthur may have something else in the works at the moment,” he added, running his finger back and forth over a scar on his hand.

“What d’ya mean?” Johns voice was hushed as he leant closer to Charles as if he were divulging the juiciest gossip. John really was a gossip hound.

Rolling his eyes at the other man Charles leant back in his chair “Mary-Beth got him an interview for some illustrating work with her publisher.”

Instantly Johns interest seemed to wane, slouching back in his chair “So, Arthur’s agreed to it?”

A wave of something washed over Charles, making his skin prickle and brow furrow at the other mans’ words “He’s got the talent to do it,” he snapped “Like you said he can’t spend the rest of his life running after all of us,” he didn’t want another argument and he knew John wasn’t looking for one, hell, judging by Johns reaction he wasn’t expecting Charles to react like that at all. Taking a breath, he held his hands up “Sorry, I know you weren’t-“

“Don’t apologise, Christ,” John laughed, fixing Charles with a knowing look “Arthur’s always been bull-headed. Let me guess,” he was tapping his fingers against the table as he thought “You told him he should do it,” Charles nodded, “he got defensive?” another nod, “…and then he changed the subject by startin’ a fight ‘bout somethin’ completely different?”

“He didn’t mean to start the fight,” Charles interjected.

It was Johns turn to nod, no longer tapping his fingers “Okay, but he did say somethin’ stupid which then started a fight?”

“It wasn’t a big fight,” the prickly feeling was back, maybe it was because it was John saying these things, John who had known Arthur so much longer than Charles had “It was more a misunderstanding than anything.”

A moment of quiet, neither man knowing what to say next, was slowly enveloping them into an awkward silence. John had hit the nail on the head, and Charles could not help but feel like he really didn’t know Arthur as well as he thought he did.

“Well in case the idiot hasn’t apologised yet, he _is_ sorry,” John finally spoke up and just like that the tension dissipated as a wry grin spread on Charles face.

“He did apologise, even promised to consider the interview,” smugness welled in his chest on Arthurs behalf.

“Well, that deserves a toast,” John smiled, raising his coffee cup and croaking a laugh when Charles gave in and clinked his own against it.

The food soon arrived and the conversation waned. Upon seeing the ‘Pearson Special’ they were still no closer to figuring out what it actually was, a heaping pile of various things, the only discernable ingredients being beans, spinach and what they thought might be bacon. Thankfully it tasted a lot better than it looked.

As they finished up the bell above the door jingled as another customer entered the café. Charles paid it little heed until John slapped his arm, nodding his head in the direction of the man who had come in. It was Mr Jenkins. Leonard Jenkins ran Blackwaters one and only grocery store. He was in his late forties but wore the age well, his mousy hair fading into grey at the temples and crow’s feet peeking out behind his glasses. Dressed in three different shades of beige, trousers, shirt and sweater-vest, he approached the counter where Ms Grimshaw had yet to notice him as she stacked freshly polished glasses.

Mr Jenkins being a very softly spoken gentleman and them being sat the opposite side of the room meant they couldn’t hear the conversation but they didn’t miss the way Susan lit up at seeing the man. Hastily drying her hands on a cloth and trying to subtly fix her hair in the mirror as she greeted him.

“How long have they been dancin’ ‘round each other?” John kept his voice low, not wanting to alert the older pair that they were being watched.

“Ever since we moved here,” Charles postulated, raising his eyebrows as Mr Jenkins took Susans hand in his own. Whatever she was being told had her fixed attention, a very slight, shy smile twitching her lips. The pair were leaning closer and closer over the counter. Mr Jenkins blushed as she brushed unseen lint from his shoulder. It was like watching two thirteen year olds on their first date.

The moment was ruined by the shrill ring of the telephone. The pair jumped apart, Susans eyes flicking between the man and the phone as she spoke. Mr Jenkins was nodding before he stepped back and began heading for the door eyes barely leaving Susan as she took a breath before answering the phone. Then with an enthusiastic wave he disappeared onto the street again.

Answering the phone Susan couldn't seem to help but keep throwing glances back at the door as if Mr Jenkins may walk back through any moment. But he didn't. After a minute she was hanging up the phone and making her way to their table, rolling her eyes as the two men unsuccessfully tried to act like they hadn't been watching the entire thing.

“Oh you boys are worse than school girls,” Susan admonished, cuffing John lightly on the back of the head.

“He seems nice, and he's clearly as interested in you as you are in him,” Charles words struck Susan dumb, the older woman staring at him with soft eyes as her face flushed.

“Well, that is neither here nor there,” she flustered as she straightened her cardigan, but her light touch to Charles shoulder said plenty. “Anyway, that was Monroe on the phone Charles, said that he would meet you up at Aurora Basin.”

Nodding in thanks he checked his watch, it was almost one, no wonder Monroe was calling. Leaving a twenty dollar bill on the table he bid his farewells.

* * *

The rangers station had been an old trading post, re-purposed after decades of disuse, with a leaky ceiling and rotten floorboards. It had been one of the first tasks they had tackled, Charles and Eagle Flies wrapped in a mountain of layers as they tried to insulate the shack in the dead of winter whilst Monroe kept watch with a rifle in case any of more blood thirsty wildlife decided to come and investigate. It was hard work, the kind Charles could easily get himself lost in.

After weeks of labouring day and night they had a water-and-air tight base of operations, though it had been another two months before they had running water and any form of electric heating. It had been freezing and miserable Charles was sure but he really couldn’t remember it as such. Each day had been arduous and back breaking but it had been the first time in a long while that he had felt pride for the work he was doing.

Little by little things improved, word got out that there were active-rangers working in Tall Trees and though they came across the odd gang of teens or rough-sleeper it was slowly becoming the wildlife hub they were striving for.

Wildlife didn’t pay rent or wages though and the Mayor’s office were a constant dog at their heels trying to make sure they sweated for every cent of their wages. So they found other ways to fund the conservation efforts; Eagle Flies, after a lot of arguments, had convinced them to set up a ropes course with bridges, swings and zip lines making a path through the trees which had been an instant hit with the tourists who flocked to West Elizabeth. Monroe kept saying he had invited a photographer friend of his to take shots of the wildlife and assemble a calendar or something of the same sort that they could sell but they had yet to see any photographer.

So Charles was keen to update them with Johns plan as he approached Aurora Basin. It was his favourite part of Tall Trees, the only car access was a winding track close to a mile from the main road affording it a peace rarely found elsewhere. The land was owned by Hamish, an old veteran who lived on the lake, but he readily welcomed the three rangers when they had found themselves in the boundaries of his property. Charles had taken Arthur up there a few times and the old timer had quickly befriended Arthur as well.

Monroe was sat with Hamish on the jetty when Charles arrived. Grabbing his jacket from the passenger seat, he climbed out of the pick-up and slammed the door, getting the attention of the two men. “Take a seat Charles,” Hamish insisted as Charles crossed the jetty.

“Hamish has an offer for you,” Monroe said in lieu of greeting and Charles got the distinct feeling he had walked into an ambush. Hamish held out a beer for Charles which he politely declined with a shake of his head.

“An offer?”

Taking a moment to open the beer bottle he had decided to keep for himself, Hamish nodded. “I’m leavin’ this old place, need someone to take it over. Don’t want none of those bastard tourists gettin’ their hands on it and it never gettin’ used, figured maybe one of you rangers would want it.”

“You’re just…wait…you’re just giving away your home?” Charles tripped over the words as he put the information together.

“Don’t worry, ain’t goin’ to go live as a wild man or anythin’ like that. Got a new place up at O’Creagh’s Run, be a shame for all of this to go to waste,” the old man wore a forlorn smile, his gaze flicking across the lake “Come on, you told me yourself how much you like this place-“

“And you’re always complaining about your apartment,” Monroe butted in, grinning as he took a swig of his beer.

He _was_ always complaining about his apartment. The heating was patchy, his neighbours were loud and there was a lingering smell of damp he just couldn’t get rid of. If he were honest with himself, taking Hamish’s lakeside home was a no-brainer. It was everything he wanted in a home. He could see it in his head; Taima would sunbathe on the jetty, he could plant herbs and flowers to persuade critters and wildlife back to the area and Arthur, well, Arthur could live there too.

Hamish was getting impatient and tried once more “Come on, imagine what those yuppy tourists would do to this place, say you’ll take it?”

* * *

Taima was not a good kitchen assistant Arthur thought as he lifted the furry menace off the counter for the sixth time in ten minutes. “Charles don’t want to be eating anythin’ with your hair in okay?” he explained as he plopped her on the floor.

Going back to his pancake mix Arthur didn’t hear the front door open. It wasn’t until arms wound around his waist that he realized he was no longer alone. “That better be you Charles otherwise this is gonna get real awkward.”

Laughing, Charles tightened his grip, resting his chin on Arthurs shoulder as he gave him a peck on the cheek. “You making pancakes?”

Putting down the whisk, Arthur placed his hands on top of the other mans, running his fingers over Charles hands. Gently he pried the hands loose from his waist and turned so they were facing each other. Raising his hand he fiddled with the buttons on Charles shirt, not trying to undo them, just to keep his hands busy. “Figured I was a bit of an idiot last night, wanted to apologize.”

“Apology accepted,” Charles said quietly, taking Arthurs hand in his own giving his shirt a reprieve, though he didn’t miss the way Arthur was periodically squeezing his hand.

“Also, I err, I called the publisher,” he admitted.

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? They tell me they ain’t interested,” Charles was ready to rebuke but Arthur wasn’t finished, “Don’t matter. I still got you, still got Dutch, Hosea, John and everyone. May as well right?”

More than a little dumbfounded but entirely delighted Charles pulled Arthur into his arms “That’s fantastic, that’s-“ pushing back slightly he looked at Arthur, taking in everything he could “You’re happy right? You didn’t do this just because-“

Arthurs face lit up, brightening with a wide grin “Naw, you was right. ‘Bout time I did somethin’ for me, just needed a nudge,” for a moment they stared at each other, wearing matching grins, hands still twined together.

The moment was ruined by a resounding crash, followed by the hurried scurrying of paws on linoleum as Taima sprinted away from the damage. Turning both men couldn’t help but laugh as they took in the broken jug in the steadily spreading pool of pancake batter on the floor. “I’ll grab the dustpan,” Charles offered, still chuckling as he began searching under the sink.

Grabbing some paper towels Arthur knelt on the floor beginning to wipe up the mess. Charles knelt beside him and began to take care of the glass, a warm comfort settling on both of them despite the ruined pancakes. When the worst of it was mopped or brushed up the two men stayed on the floor, leaning against the cabinet shoulder to shoulder.

“How was your day?” Arthur asked, breaking the silence.

For a second everything single thing Charles had done that day left his head. As he tried to order his thoughts he watched as Taima poked her head out from where she had hidden behind the recycling bin before scampering towards them and clambering into Arthurs lap. “I saw Hamish, up at Aurora Basin” he began, giving Taima a quick scratch behind the ears as she began purring against Arthurs chest “He’s moving in a few weeks.”

“Aw that’s a shame, I liked Hamish,” the blonde responded, still fussing the cat in his lap.

“He’s offered me the house when he leaves.”

“What?” it was Arthurs turn to be dumbfounded his jaw dropping at Charles words.

“Yeah,” the situation was still ridiculous to Charles, but looking at Arthur with Taima in his lap sat in the middle of the kitchen floor after a failed attempt to make pancakes brought the fantastic reality of it crashing down on him. “You want to move in with me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, that is how I ended that - but come on, we all know what Arthurs answer would be...hopefully
> 
> But they're all so happy and things are going so well, man, it would be a real SHAME if something were to happen to them....

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 2 is on the way! 
> 
> But please let me know what you think! x


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